Page 17

I’m not sure what surprises me more—the pile of supplies stacked outside the packhouse, or the fact that all of it is for me.

For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the assortment of weapons, tools, and neatly bundled packages of food like they might sprout legs and start walking around. The shifters bustling about don’t seem to think this is weird at all. If anything, they look proud of themselves, like they’re packing me off for some grand adventure.

“Uh, what is all this?” I finally ask, half expecting someone to pop out with a clipboard and start taking inventory.

Madison beams at me as she hands off a tightly wrapped loaf of bread to a teenager, who zips it into a satchel. “Provisions,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ll need food that won’t spoil, tools for the journey, and a few extras for good luck.”

“Extras?” I echo, glancing at a cluster of small cloth pouches tied with string. The faint hum of magic tells me they’re charms—protection, maybe, or something more specific. Either way, someone went to a lot of trouble making them.

Madison shrugs. “You can never have too much luck.”

Another shifter walks by with an armful of spears, nodding at me like this is totally normal. I blink, trying to wrap my head around what I’m seeing. This isn’t just a few thoughtful gestures. This is a full-on effort to outfit me for survival.

And it’s… weird. Not bad weird, but definitely unexpected. Most of my life, these people barely tolerated me. Some of them openly hated me. And now they’re sending me off like I’m one of their own.

Like they want me to come back.

“Okay,” I say slowly, dragging my gaze back to Madison. “Who put you all up to this? Was it Gray?”

Madison’s laugh is warm and genuine, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. “This is all us, honey.”

“All you?” My eyebrows shoot up, and I cross my arms. “You expect me to believe that?”

She winks. “Take it as a compliment, Jaslyn. You’ve made an impression.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. Compliments from the pack aren’t exactly something I’m used to. Instead of arguing, I let my gaze drift back to the supplies. There’s a small bow and quiver among the weapons, a set of throwing knives, and even a coil of sturdy-looking rope. These aren’t cheap, spur-of-the-moment gestures. Someone put real thought into this.

The warmth in my chest is uncomfortable, and I shift my weight, trying to brush it off. “Well, I guess I should say thanks.”

Madison pats my shoulder like I just passed some kind of test. “You’re welcome, babe. Just make sure you bring yourself back in one piece.”

I’m saved from having to respond by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me. Turning, I find Tim standing a few feet away with his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for impact. He looks awkward, which is… new. Tim isn’t usually the awkward type. Smug, sure. Overconfident, definitely. But this?

This is different.

“Can we talk?” he asks, glancing at the others like he’s hoping they’ll suddenly disappear.

I fold my arms and arch a brow. “That depends. Are you about to say something that’ll piss me off?”

He winces, but there’s a hint of something that might be a smile. “I’ll try not to.”

Madison gives me a knowing look before bustling off, leaving Tim and me alone in the middle of the pack’s impromptu supply depot.

“Look,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck, “I owe you an apology.”

I blink. That was not what I expected. “For what?”

“For a lot of things,” he admits. “For being a jerk when we were kids. For treating you like an outsider when you came back. And for not stepping up sooner when…” He hesitates, and I know he’s thinking about the demon. About Amber.

“I should’ve done more,” he says quietly. “But you, you saved her. You didn’t have to, and you did it, anyway.”

I don’t know what to say. Tim has never been one for self-reflection, and hearing him lay it all out like this is almost disorienting.

“It wasn’t just for her,” I say. “I did what I had to.”

“Well, thank you,” he replies. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was wrong.”

I study him for a long moment, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all I see is a man who’s trying to make things right, even if he’s not sure how.

“Okay,” I finally respond. “Apology accepted.”

He lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours, and the tension in his shoulders eases. “Thanks, Jaslyn. That means a lot.”

Before I can respond, Amber appears at his side and slips her hand into his. She offers me a shy smile, and I nod in return. They’re a picture of contrasts: Tim, the brash, confident wolf who’s suddenly learning humility, and Amber, the quiet, steady she-wolf.

As they walk away, I feel a strange sense of closure. Maybe things really can change. Maybe people can surprise you.

I glance back at the pile of supplies and brush my fingers over the smooth wood of the bow. For the first time, I feel like this pack isn’t just tolerating me. They’re rooting for me.

And damn if that doesn’t make me want to prove them right.

Before long, the supplies are sorted, the goodbyes are exchanged, and by morning, we’ll be on the road. But I can’t shake the knot of tension coiled in my chest. The uncertainty over what lies ahead.

I find myself wandering toward the edge of the forest, my steps heavy and aimless. The air is crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth, but it does nothing to ease the restlessness gnawing at me.

Maybe running will help. Shifting always cleared my head when I was younger, grounding me in the primal rhythm of my wolf. It’s simple, instinctual. Just me and the wild.

But when I close my eyes and reach for the wolf, nothing happens.

My magic stutters, faltering like a flame caught in the wind. I grit my teeth and try again, focusing on the familiar pull, the heat, the shift. Still nothing.

Dammit. Not now.

“What are you doing?” Gray’s voice cuts through the quiet, and I whirl around to find him leaning against a nearby tree. How long has he been there?

For a moment, my heart skips—not from surprise, but from the sight of him. The way the fading sunlight catches the sharp angles of his face, the casual confidence in his stance, the way he seems to fill the entire forest with his presence. It’s maddening. Infuriating. And far too distracting for someone who’s supposed to be preparing for a demon hunt.

“Trying to shift,” I admit. “It’s not working.”

He doesn’t respond right away, just watches me with that steady, assessing gaze that makes me feel like he sees more than I’m ready to share. My fingers curl into fists at my sides as I try to ignore the way my pulse quickens under his scrutiny.

Because the truth is, it’s not just the shifting that’s bothering me. It’s him. It’s the way his voice wraps around me like a promise, the way his presence grounds me and unravels me all at once. It’s the way my feelings for him are starting to slip past the boundaries I’ve tried so hard to keep in place.

Feelings I can’t afford right now.

Not when we’re about to walk into the unknown. Not when there’s every chance we might not come back. Letting myself care about Gray—really care—feels like inviting pain. Like reaching for something that might not be there when this is all over.

But as much as I try to remind myself of that, my traitorous heart doesn’t seem to care.

He pushes off the tree and strides toward me. “You’re overthinking it again.”

“Thanks for the groundbreaking insight, Alpha,” I snap, but the edge in my voice doesn’t faze him. If anything, it makes the corner of his mouth twitch like he’s trying not to smile.

“Seriously, Jaslyn,” he says, stopping in front of me. “You’re too wound up. Shifting isn’t just physical, it’s mental. If your head’s not in the right place, your wolf won’t come out.”

“How can I relax when I’m about to head into demon-infested territory?”

He chuckles, low and warm, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “There are other ways to relax, you know.”

I narrow my eyes at him, searching for any hint of teasing. But his gaze is steady, intent, and it sends a different kind of tension coiling through me. The air between us shifts, charged with something I can’t quite name but can definitely feel.

“Other ways, huh?” I say, my voice softer now, almost a challenge. I tilt my head, letting the moment linger. “You seem on edge, too,” I murmur. “Maybe we should both take a moment to… relax.”

His blue eyes darken, and for a second, I think he might actually give in. But then he steps back, running a hand through his hair and breaking the spell. “Jaslyn—”

“No.” I close the distance between us, placing my hand on his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my palm, but I don’t miss the way it quickens slightly at my touch. “Don’t overthink it.”

He swallows hard. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Why not?” I press, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Because you’re scared? Or because you want me too much to stop?”

His resolve falters, just for a moment, and it’s all the encouragement I need. I lean in and brush my lips against the line of his jaw. His breath hitches, and I feel a surge of satisfaction at the way his hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting not to touch me.

“Jaslyn…” It’s a warning, but it sounds more like a plea.

I smile against his skin. “Relax, Alpha.”

With that, I close the gap between us, and my lips find his in a kiss that’s anything but tentative. It’s bold and demanding, and he responds with a heat that sends sparks racing through my veins. His hands grip my waist, pulling me closer as his control snaps, and the world tilts beneath me.

Gray’s lips are fire and sin, and I lose myself completely as his hands roam over my body. His touch is both possessive and gentle. Every brush of his fingers, every press of his mouth, ignites something inside me that I didn’t even know was there.

The rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of us and the raw, unrelenting pull that binds us together.

When his hands slide down to my hips and lift me effortlessly, I wrap my legs around his waist, my fingers tangling in his hair as he carries me deeper into the forest. His lips never leave mine, and I’m vaguely aware of the rough bark of a tree against my back as he presses me against it, his body anchoring me in place.

“I told you,” I whisper against his mouth, my voice breathless. “There are other ways to relax.”

His laughter is low and rough, and it vibrates through me in a way that makes my head spin. “You’re impossible,” he mutters before claiming my lips again.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.